The Viking's Defiant Bride

by Joanna Fulford

  Elgiva emerged from the peasant hut into the pale sunshine, drawing in a welcome breath of fresh air. Ironfist straightened, pushing his shoulders away from the door frame he had been leaning on.

  ‘Whither next, lady?’ he enquired.

  Elgiva was about to reply, but the words died in her throat as she recognised the approaching rider. Her mind raced to try to discover the reason for his presence. Had he come to drag her back to the hall? Was he angry about something? He didn’t look angry, but that was no guarantee of anything. He reined in before the hut. Just then Osgifu emerged from a neighbouring dwelling and, seeing the others, came over to join them. Wulfrum glanced at her a moment before turning to his wife.

  ‘It seems you were right, my lady,’ he said.

  ‘Lord?’

  ‘The village water supply had become contaminated.’

  ‘How, my lord?’ asked Osgifu.

  ‘A dead sheep further upstream. It was truly rotten. ’Tis no wonder so many here fell ill.’

  ‘You went to check,’ said Elgiva, regarding him with open curiosity.

  ‘Yes. After what you said, it seemed the logical thing to do. You were right about my men too; they told me that the last time they were in the village they also drank from the stream.’

  Osgifu shook her head. ‘Well, I’m blessed! At least we know now. I’ll pass the word that all water is to be drawn fresh and the old discarded.’

  Wulfrum dismounted and came to stand by his wife.

  ‘I think the epidemic is as good as over.’

  ‘I think so too.’ She paused. ‘Thanks to your timely discovery, lord.’

  ‘It was you made me think of it,’ he returned.

  ‘At least no one else will fall sick, though some are in poor enough case.’

  ‘If anyone can help them, I think it will be you.’

  She looked up in surprise, but there was no trace of a smile on his face now.

  ‘I will do my best.’

  ‘I know.’

  The intensity of his gaze was disconcerting and Elgiva felt her pulse quicken. He extended a hand towards her.

  ‘Will you return with me now, Elgiva?’

  She hesitated and it was Osgifu who spoke. ‘You go, my lady. There is little left to do here. I can finish off. Besides, you look tired.’

  Wulfrum seized his opportunity. ‘She is right. You have done everything possible. Come.’

  The tone was gentle, but firm. He intended to be obeyed and Elgiva knew it would be pointless to argue. She watched him remount and then nod to Ironfist. With no more effort than if she had been made of thistledown the giant lifted her on to the crupper. Then he looked at Wulfrum.

  ‘Have no fear, my lord, I’ll see Osgifu safe home.’

  Wulfrum nodded and then turned the horse’s head. For a while they rode in silence, he holding his mount to a walk. Having achieved her company, he had no intention of losing it again too soon. Almost he could feel the tension in the figure at his back, though her hands rode but lightly on his waist, just enough to steady herself. If he had been composed of burning coals she could not have touched him with greater caution. Thinking of his earlier suspicions, he was conscious of a twinge of guilt. It had been churlish when, clearly, her desire had only been to help. Mentally he strove to find the right words but, being unused to baring his thoughts to a woman, found they did not come easily.

  ‘Where did you learn such skill in healing?’ he asked.

  ‘From my mother while she lived, and then from Osgifu.’

  ‘They taught you well.’ He paused. Then, ‘I owe you much, Elgiva, and I thank you.’

  Caught off balance by the remark, Elgiva stared for a moment at the broad shoulders in front of her. ‘You owe me nothing,’ she replied. ‘These are my people and their welfare is my concern.’

  ‘They are fortunate then.’

  Again she listened for a note of mockery, but heard none. Like his actions this morning, it took her aback. She would not have expected him to take so close an interest in the matter. He could have sent one of his men to investigate the water supply, but he had not. In spite of his earlier opposition, he had listened and acted on her words. It was, she acknowledged, quite an admission and one she could not have envisaged him making even yesterday. Who could have expected so proud a man to unbend so far? It seemed to call for a reciprocal gesture.

  ‘You did your part too, my lord.’

  Wulfrum could detect no irony in her voice and was surprised, being well aware how cutting her tongue could be. And yet perversely the same tongue could disarm him in a moment. It had never occurred to him before that a woman might be an ally, much less a friend. Yet these last few days had shown how valuable a woman’s allegiance might be. A man might achieve much with such a one at his side. The idea was disturbing and welcome at once. Yet how to tell her his thought? Again, such words did not come readily; if he said the wrong thing, the fragile truce would be broken. Worse, she might laugh in his face. If she did, he could hardly blame her, given their brief history together. It was probably better to say nothing.

  Elgiva had no clue as to his thought, but sensed a change. The tension between them had lightened, at least for now. Uncertain how it had come about, she was unwilling to do anything to change it and kept her own counsel. Thus they returned home in what she might, under other circumstances, have described as companionable silence.

  Over the next few days the condition of many of the villagers improved and Osgifu was sufficiently encouraged to voice the opinion that they had turned a corner. Responding to treatment, their patients began to shake off the ill effects they had suffered. More were able to leave their beds and get about again. The fever left them weaker than before, but they were out of danger at least.

  In the hall the number of patients had diminished also, until only a dozen or so of the worst cases were left. For all that young Harald would have left his bed, Osgifu refused to allow it.

  ‘If you want to tear that shoulder anew, by all means get up.’

  ‘I have lain here three weeks already.’

  ‘If you know what is good for you, lad, you’ll remain a week more.’

  He threw her a belligerent look that left her quite unmoved. She turned to Elgiva.

  ‘You speak to him. See if you cannot talk some sense into that hot head.’

  Elgiva regarded the young man with an understanding smile, but her tone was firm. ‘Osgifu is right. You must remain abed a little longer.’

  He sighed then and acquiesced. ‘Your wish is my command, lady.’

  ‘Have a care what you promise.’

  Harald’s expression grew earnest and he carried her hand to his lips. ‘I would perform whatever you asked of me, my lady.’

  Elgiva laughed. ‘I will remember that, Harald. You may have cause to regret your words.’

  ‘Never.’

  She extricated her hand and gathered up her things, preparing to move on. As she did so, she looked up and saw Wulfrum watching them from the other side of the hall, his expression flinty. Elgiva noted it with some surprise. Surely a young man’s infatuation for his nurse would not make the noble earl jealous? Yet he seemed much out of humour. She ought not to have been amused. Forcing back a smile, she continued with her round.

  Across the room Wulfrum’s gaze followed his wife’s movements among her remaining patients. He saw their expressions as they looked at her, saw their eyes light, saw them smile. A few exchanged pleasantries with her. He saw her smile and reply with a kind word for all. His gaze went back to Harald. Quite clearly the young man was besotted. Wulfrum sighed. Who wasn’t? It seemed half his men were in love with his wife. In that moment he felt ashamed of his ill humour. How was it with him that he should respond thus because a callow youth made eyes at her? Elgiva was his. None would dispute it. Harald was young and brave and had ever served his overlord with commitment and loyalty. He might imagine himself head over heels in love, but his was not a treacherous nature. Wulfrum had no
reason to suspect him, or Elgiva, either. What she did now she did at his command, and, thanks to her and Osgifu, many lived who might otherwise have died. He had much to thank her for, not look for offence where there was none. In truth, no woman had ever caused the sensation he had felt a few moments ago when he saw Harald take her hand. Wulfrum shook his head. He had thought himself the conqueror here. Now he wasn’t so sure. With a final glance across the room he turned and quit the hall, seeking fresh air to cool his head.

  Chapter Nine

  Elgiva looked round the still room with mounting concern. Tending the sick and injured in such numbers had severely depleted the current stock of medicines and used up most of the dried herbs that she and Osgifu needed for their salves and potions. If they did not replenish supplies very soon, there would be none left at all. The older woman had been thinking on similar lines.

  ‘You must speak to Wulfrum,’ she said.

  ‘To what end? He will not let us go into the forest to gather plants.’

  ‘He said he wouldn’t let you go to the village too, didn’t he?’ replied Osgifu. ‘But you went in the end.’

  ‘That was different. People were sick.’

  ‘People will be sick again and when it happens we must be prepared.’

  Elgiva knew Osgifu was right. With some trepidation she decided to approach her husband on the matter, though she was doubtful of the outcome. Now she deeply regretted her previous attempt to escape. It had been madness, a moment of folly born of desperation and fear, but he would remember it and perhaps count her words suspect now. On the other hand, he had indeed let her go to the village. Besides which, the atmosphere had been less tense of late. Would he listen? With some reluctance she left Osgifu and went to seek him out.

  She found him in the yard, supervising repairs to the gate where the carpenter and his team were already busy. Elgiva hesitated; she could see Olaf Ironfist there, as well, along with Ida and Ceolnoth and some of the others. They looked up as she approached and the conversation stopped. Under their speculative regard Elgiva’s self-consciousness increased. Had the need been less urgent, her courage might have failed. As it was she waited, wondering if Wulfrum would be angry that she interrupted them. However, when he turned and saw her, he smiled.

  ‘What would you, my lady?’

  ‘A word, my lord, if the moment is convenient.’ She looked round at his companions. ‘I can come back later if…’

  ‘No. There is nothing pressing. Come.’

  He left them and took her arm.

  ‘What is it, Elgiva?’

  She explained, searching his face for clues as to his likely response. He heard her in silence and then nodded.

  ‘Go and gather what you need. Osgifu may go with you.’

  For a moment she wondered if she had misheard, then managed to stammer out her thanks.

  ‘There is no need to thank me,’ he replied. ‘Rather I should thank you. The injured made good progress under your care. Now I have seen your skill I would be the last to do anything to hinder it.’

  Elgiva felt herself redden under his praise. ‘The plants should be picked with the dew on them, close to dawn.’ She paused. ‘We would go tomorrow, if you have no objection. The matter is urgent now.’

  ‘As you will.’

  She smiled, unable to think of anything else to say, all too aware of his closeness. She felt sure that he would return to his men now, being bored with women’s affairs, but to her surprise he did not. Retaining his hold on her arm, he drew her away.

  ‘The repairs on the gate will be finished in a day or two,’ he said. ‘After that the men will restore the doors to the mead hall.’

  Thinking of the shattered timbers, Elgiva knew there was a goodly amount of work involved. Already men were busy in the saw pit, while in the village the serfs had begun the necessary rebuilding of the houses that had been destroyed by Halfdan’s war band. Others had returned to tend the fields under the watchful eyes of their Viking masters.

  As Wulfrum talked, they strolled on and came presently to the stables. It was quiet within and fragrant with hay and horses. Aside from the beasts it was deserted. Recalling the last time they had been alone in a place like this, Elgiva began to doubt the wisdom of remaining. Wulfrum glanced down at her.

  ‘Why are you afraid?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Then why are you trembling?’

  She bit her lip, unable to think of anything to say.

  ‘Do you think I might throw you down on a pile of hay?’ He let his gaze travel the length of her. ‘Not such a bad idea, now I think of it.’

  Her chin came up at once. ‘Try it and I’ll spit you with that pitchfork!’

  ‘That’s better,’ he returned. ‘But you needn’t worry—I am too fearful of my life to do any such thing, although you do make it a tempting risk.’

  He turned her to face him, his hands riding her waist. Elgiva caught her breath, suddenly aware of the quiet barn, the absence of people, the large pile of hay in the corner and his proximity. Over the sweet smell of hay and straw she could detect the musky scent of the man, sensual, alluring and dangerous. Would he kiss her again, and, if he did, what then? Appalled by the direction of her thoughts and in the cause of self-preservation, she stepped aside, out of his hold, into the stall where the bay mare was standing. Wulfrum smiled and followed her, moving to the horse’s head, letting her breathe in his scent and accept him. Then he patted the glossy neck and ran an experienced hand over her shoulder and back.

  ‘A beautiful animal,’ he said, ‘but finely made. Not up to a man’s weight. A lady’s mount, I think.’

  Elgiva said nothing.

  ‘Yours?’

  ‘Yes. She was a present from my father.’

  ‘A generous gift.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She will breed fine foals,’ he observed.

  Elgiva’s jaw tightened, but she remained silent. What was there to say? The mare belonged to him now, just like everything else around here. He could do with her as he liked. He could do with them both as he liked. Had he not shown her as much in the still room? A wave of resentment welled up and she turned away. Wulfrum frowned, sensing the change in her mood.

  ‘Elgiva?’

  He reached out a hand towards her, but she ducked under the horse’s neck and thence out of the stall, running for the door. She heard Wulfrum call after her, but she did not stop. He stared in surprise after her departing figure and shook his head, unable to account for the sudden dramatic change in her mood.

  ‘Now what in Odin’s name was that about?’ he wondered aloud.

  The mare snorted and stamped a hoof. Wulfrum shook his head, bemused. Women were unpredictable creatures at the best of times, like horses. They needed careful handling, but they needed to know their master. Perhaps he should have taken Elgiva that first night, should have demanded her submission. It had been a novel experience for a woman to resist him tooth and nail. Initially he had found it exciting, until he had seen the look on her face, a look of fear and revulsion. It had stopped him in his tracks. He had never forced a woman and would not force this one, although he wanted her more than any woman he had ever met. Thus he had played a waiting game. Now he wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure it. Night after night he lay beside her, listening in the darkness to the sound of her soft breathing or in the dawn light watching her sleep. It took all his will power not to touch her, to lay claim to what was his by right. So many times he had been on the point of using force, but each time he rejected it. She must come to him. Only then would she be truly his. So many times he had imagined that moment, tried to visualise the circumstances when she would give herself to him, willingly and without reserve. Wulfrum permitted himself a wry smile. He was not naïve enough to think it would be easy or soon, but it was a challenge and he had ever enjoyed those. A wild spirit was more worth the winning. Giving the mare a last affectionate slap on the rump, he made his way out of the stable.

&nb
sp; Elgiva hurried back to the hall, angry with herself for having let him upset her. What was the use? Ravenswood belonged to him now and everything in it, and the sooner she accepted it the better. All the same, the knowledge rankled. Worse, because of her foolish behaviour, he might rethink his permission to let her gather herbs on the morrow.

  That evening, as he spoke and laughed with his men, she watched him to see whether he seemed angry, but could detect no sign of it. On the contrary, the atmosphere seemed good humoured with the conversation turning on weapons and hunting. The forest abounded with game and the Vikings were wont to take advantage of it to supplement the food at table. Now it seemed there were plans afoot for a boar hunt. Elgiva, who had been standing in the background overseeing the serving of the food, listened and felt sad, thinking of all the times she had accompanied her father and brother on the hunt, recalling the thrill and speed of the chase. She could ride as well as any man and, for all the little mare was finely made, she was swift and had stamina enough to hold her own against the larger mounts. However, all that was of no import now. She would never be allowed to ride the horse again and Mara would be used to breed fine foals.

  ‘Elgiva, what are you doing there?’ Wulfrum’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  Drawn from her reverie with a guilty start, she threw a swift glance over the table to see what he lacked.

  ‘Come, my lady, that is work for the servants. You will sit beside me.’

  ‘My lord, it is my place to serve you with food and drink.’

  ‘Your place is where I say it is.’

  The tone brooked no argument and, with reluctance, she left off what she had been doing and seated herself in the chair beside him. Wulfrum nodded his approval while beside him Olaf Ironfist watched impassively. The other men exchanged glances before addressing themselves again to their meat and the conversation resumed. Elgiva assumed a manner of outward composure, aware the while of Wulfrum’s eyes on her.